Accepting the Possible Inevitable
by TotoroBird
Summary: Set at Shell Cottage, after Malfoy Manor in DH. After her mentally and physically scarring torture, Hermione contemplates the prospect of dying and how she feels about it. Romione one-shot. T to be safe. Reviews welcome!


Hermione sat on the smooth, gold-grey sand, a few hundred yards from the cottage where the others were resting. The rolling waves had begun to creep gradually up the beach; the sky had turned a buttery yellow colour. She could feel what remained of the sun on her back as it hid behind the countless sand dunes. A warm breeze occasionally brushed a strand of wild, brown hair into her eyes, and she would absentmindedly wind it behind her ear.

Her knees were hugged to her chest. If the air was getting a little colder with the setting sun, she didn't notice, though her arms shivered a little. It wasn't surprising as she was wearing a thin, baggy t shirt of Ron's and pyjama bottoms she had found somewhere.

Uncovered and still raw were the scars she had carved into her at Malfoy Manor. The horrifying, painful memory was still branded and blazing in her shattered mind. She still woke up screaming from the nightmares: Bellatrix Lestrange's malicious smile burning under her eyelids; the curved grin of the knife glinting in her head; 'Mudblood' written with marks from a blade, red with her blood.

Though she remembered her agonising torture vividly, she couldn't quite place what came next. She could remember vague images of a broken chandelier, Ron's panic-stricken face as he carried her roughly into the cottage, and Harry digging a hole. Hermione wasn't sure what'll order they went in, nor if they even happened. The last few days had been a blur of fantasy and reality, nightmares and hazy events that didn't seem to tie together.

It wasn't like her at all. Her mind was so quick, faster than most, always alert of what was going on, always whizzing ahead to some kind of conclusion. She always knew what to expect. But at the moment, she felt so broken, as if she had been taken apart and put back together in the wrong order. Nothing seemed right.

One thing Hermione was certain of, the only thing she was certain of, was that Ron never seemed to leave her side. He was always there, ready to quell her screams and calm her down.

It was because of him that she began to hold the scars on her arm with pride. It was because of him that she left the bed she had been lying in for days, falling in and out of sleep. It was because of him that she had acquired the strength, both emotionally and physically, to get up and get on with her life.

She was sick of crying: crying when Ron left; crying in the tent; crying in Malfoy Manor. It felt like all she did was weep and weep. She could not- no, would not be the weak one, the one they had to protect. Hermione Granger was no damsel in distress. It was her war just as much as theirs. They wouldn't find Horcruxes while she moped around.

But she couldn't protect herself from dreams. No one could save her from the nightmarish reality she lived in her sleep. Not even Ron.

There was a crunching of sand beside her and she looked up. Ron stood looking concerned next to her. She smiled up at him.

'Hermione, you should be resting,' he said anxiously.

'No Ron. All I've been doing is resting. I have to get up sometime.' She looked back out at the waves as they rumbled and crashed onto the shore.

'But Hermione-'

'No. I'm alright here.' She folded her arms stubbornly over her chest.

There was a pause, and then he sighed and said, 'Well at least let me keep you warm.'

He sat down next to her, unzipped his jacket and wrapped it round her fragile shoulders.

'Thanks.'

They sat, looking out over the scenery. It seemed so much more beautiful and insignificant with what loomed over the horizon. Hermione felt at peace, the sound of rushing salt water soothing her troubled mind.

'What are you thinking about?' he asked tenderly.

'Dying.' There was no tears on her face, nor was there a quiver of fear in her voice. She was calm.

'Why?'

'Well if you hadn't noticed, Ronald, I nearly died only three days ago.'

'It's not something to joke about,' he growled savagely. Hermione looked at him, searching his burning blue eyes, and she found underneath the anger, there was fear and most prominently, deep distress.

She put her hand on his arm and he seemed to calm a little. 'You're right. I'm sorry.'

He nodded, looking away.

'Ron, I didn't mean to- I mean-' she stopped. She wasn't sure what she meant. But when the thought of dying crept into her mind, as it so often did these days, it didn't scare her. It seemed...right. Natural almost. But she wasn't sure how to say it.

'I...I have been thinking about what would happen if we died,' she said simply.

'I won't let it happen,' Ron said determinedly, taking one of her cold hands in his, 'I won't lose you.'

Hermione smiled affectionately. 'No, Ron. You don't understand. We will all die someday.'

He looked at her frowning. 'I know that but-'

'Let me talk,' she said. He fell silent. 'There is a large chance that neither you nor me will survive this war. A good chance that we will die. What I'm saying is...' This was the hard part. In truth, she couldn't find any words to translate how truly at peace she felt. How, even though she knew she sat at death's door and could be soon entering through it, she was just content to be here with him, in this beautiful place. Possibly for the last time.

'All I'm saying is... I'm not afraid anymore.' There it was. Though it was only a few words, she didn't think they could some up everything any better. 'I always thought I understood everything about the world. Merlin knows, I've read enough books. But now I realise, only when I came to accept dying, did I understand what it was.' She smiled, shaking her head. 'I have been an idiot.'

'No you haven't,' he said. 'You're anything but.'

'It's true though.'

'But you're not!'

'You don't have to keep contradicting me, Ronald.'

'Sorry.'

Hermione grew silent, gazing out at the darkening sky. The sun had dipped below the horizon behind them, leaving a deep turquoise-blue sky with the odd star scattered here and there.

'Ron?'

'Yeah?'

'It has been the utmost pleasure knowing you and being your friend.' Her dark eyes found his blue and held them a moment before Ron flushed red.

'Really?' He didn't sound convinced.

'Really.'

'Even when I've been a nasty sod?' he mumbled.

'Even when you've been a nasty sod,' she confirmed.

'Even when I left you and Harry?'

She took a deep breath. 'Even when you left,' she nodded, 'though you were a right tosser for doing it.'

He laughed a little.

'I couldn't have made it without you. I wanted you to know that in case I didn't survive.'

'You will.' His voice broke a little mid sentence and he looked away.

'Well if I don't, just remember that.'

'Have you told Harry any of this?'

'He knows. But I wasn't sure you did.'

'O-of course, Hermione.'

'Good, I'm glad.' She smiled complacently at him.

Slowly, Hermione began to push herself up. Her limbs were still weak from lack of movement for days so it wasn't too much of a surprise when her legs caved in under her, but it made her cry out in pain all the same. In a moment, Ron was at her side, pulling her up.

She was several inches shorter than him, so he had to stoop to help her along. They made rugged progress across the sand, sometimes pausing for Hermione to get her breath back. In the end, he let her onto his back and he carried her the rest of the way. She was alarmingly light and small against his shoulders.

He let her carefully back down when they reached the front door. Almost immediately, she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug. Though she weighed what seemed like less than a stone, he staggered backwards a little in surprise, before cautiously wrapping his arms round her waist, not wanting to hurt her.

'I meant it,' she murmured into his shoulder. Then she released herself from his grip and limped haphazardly through the door and into the house.

Ron stood, watching her go, wishing he hadn't let her. Wishing he had held on that second longer.

'And I love you too Hermione,' he said quietly. After a moment, he sighed and walked into the house after her.


End file.
